


One of His Many Talents

by yukirei



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukirei/pseuds/yukirei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he does not do something he cannot excel in</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of His Many Talents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merojou](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=merojou).



While Midorima is most recognized because of his reputation as part of the Generation of Miracles and his ability to use the full court as his shooting range there has been a time when basketball was not part of his life. And instead of hours on his feet practicing shooting, he spent hours sitting in front of a piano with fingers across the keys.   
  
Just like basketball it began as a recreation activity, one his parents suggested just so he wouldn't have his head permanently buried in his school books. And just like basketball, he excelled in it. Unfortunately just like basketball, he never admitted to having a passion for it despite his rapidly advancing level.  
  
But as everyone who has ever played the piano can attest, there's a sort of beauty that pulls you in with every press of ivory. This pull, this unexplainable quality has piqued Midorima's interests many times even after he's stopped attending lessons and performing recitals. So it doesn't come as much as a surprise to himself when he wanders to one of the school's music rooms during a school festival. There's no hesitation when he heads over to the lone baby grand piano and lifts the cover of the piano keys.  
  
When he sits, he maintains the proper posture—ingrained in him through countless practice sessions during his impressionable years— and unwinds the bandages on his left fingers, placing them on the music desk. He lets his left hand run across the keys with no pressure, merely a desire to feel the coolness against the pads of his fingers.  
  
There's an odd feeling, exhilarating and peaceful at the same time, when he finally places his hands parallel to the keys, ready to play. He takes a deep breathe and exhales, letting his mind clear itself so the memory of notes can come back.  
  
It starts out smooth and solemn, the sounds floating in the empty music room as the next notes flow out. Recalling and playing the piece takes all of his attention and he doesn't notice when someone else slides open the door and peeks in.  
  
The tempo gradually quickens, a lightness in contrast to the despairing beginning, and then slows, a quiet longing lingering in each note. His left hand plays faster with more notes to catch, each downward press having its own distinct voice. He hits the cresendo of the piece and as he concentrates there's almost a palable intensity surrounding him, a focus to get it right. The piece is by no means easy but its level of difficulty is not Midorima's concern, only if he can play it or not.  
  
And he does not do something he cannot excel in.  
  
\----------  
  
Of all places he expects to find Midorima, the school music room playing the piano— skillfully, he adds—  is not one of them. Takao isn't familiar with this particular talent of their ace and it's a surprise to say the least. Then again, the image of Midorima playing the piano is oddly natural. And if Takao didn't know any better he would have believed that Midorima is a pianist rather than a basketball player.   
  
He doesn't know what part Midorima is playing but Takao is transfixed, he forgets his initial reason for seeking out Midorima. Right now, there is only Midorima and this song he is playing and him needing to listen. There's a fluid grace in his hands as they dance across black and ivory not unlike when he shoots from a far distance. And Takao finds it fascinating; his heart beating along with the music that each press of Midorima's fingers produces and his breath catches when there's a shift from slow to fast and back to a calmer pace.  
  
When it suddenly cuts off, it surprises him enough to make a noise that draws the attention of Midorima away from the piano and to him instead, a scowl on Midorima's face greeting him. Takao thinks it's him that Midorima is angry at but quickly realizes that it's not when the scowl changes into a slack jaw, lips slightly parted accompanied by the widening of green eyes and the start of a blush spreading across his cheeks.  
  
Midorima abruptly stands up, the bench skidding back with a dull screech as its legs scrape against the floor, and the scowl is back in place. This time Takao has no doubt it's directed at him however the blush softens its harshness and he grins as he approaches the embarrassed teen.  
  
"I didn't know Shin-chan can play so well. I wonder why he didn't choose to play the piano instead."  
  
"Shut up. There's no reason for me to play the piano when I have basketball. I only need one extracurricular activity." Takao notices the tightening of his lips and the way Midorima looks off to the side, brows furrowed. He walks next to the piano and presses down a key, the note high and airy as it sustains.  
  
He takes the discarded bandages resting on the music desk and grabs for Midorima's left hand. "Still, I like hearing...watching Shin-chan play." he says as he wraps a finger with one strip. There's a jerk but Takao doesn't let go and continues with his task. Once he finishes, he looks up and smiles. "It's really wonderful."  
  
The embarrassed face is absolutely worth any consequences Midorima might think up for later.


End file.
